Finding Christmas Spirit
by Vicky-toria
Summary: I really wanted to write a Chistmas story and this is what I came up with. It's pretty good, but I'm looking to know what you think. Susannah meets Elizabeth, a ghost, seeking Christmas spirit.


I just got this idea at 4:30 in the morning, after I woke up from a dream. I got up right away and wrote it, so let me know what you think.

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It doesn't snow in Northern California.

It didn't bother me at first. I loved the fact that no matter what time of year it was I didn't have to where giant snow boots, frumpy jackets and itchy mittens.

I didn't have a driveway to shovel, or snow banks to climb over. Snowflakes never fell on my hair; never caused it to turn into a pile of fuzz sitting on my head. Everything was all summer, except it got a little chilly. Nothing to compare to New York chilly. I lived in a freezer growing up.

I know chilly.

But it was all these things that I missed. The things that drove me mad were the things I wished would happen. I wanted to wear giant snow boots, frumpy jackets, and itchy mittens. I felt like shoveling the driveway, and climbing over snowflakes. And I missed just having snowflakes fall.

We never left California, especially not around Christmas time. Grandma came to us, and we stayed warm in our house on the hill. Grandma loved the warmth, it thawed her bones, she'd say.

I don't even think that Jake, Brad or David have even seen a white Christmas. Andy maybe, but probably not the boys. They didn't seem to really care.

I did.

All I ever saw from my window seat was the sun, the grass, and the pavement. I wanted a white Christmas, filled with catching snowflakes on your tongue, building snowmen, snow angels, and having snowball fights.

However, I live in California now, it doesn't snow here. The last little bit of snow was sixty years ago, a light flurry.

I turned my head away from the window. Her glow radiated just a little more than usual and her smile beamed more brightly than it should for someone who was dead, but I didn't really notice.

She wore a yellow dress, and matching bow tied to her curly brunette locks. She was wearing white socks and little black shoes that shimmered in the sun light.

"How can I help you," I asked, dully. She didn't look shocked, her eyes didn't grow four times larger than her pretty little head, and she didn't start asking a million questions, she just smiled.

"I'm Elizabeth," her voice delicate, and smooth like honey. "And I want to see real Christmas spirit."

I looked at her oddly. "How am I supposed to show you real Christmas spirit?" I asked.

"You'll find a way, your Susannah, you always do," she whispered, and I could still hear the beauty in her voice.

I looked her right in the eyes, and smiled the first time to her. She shimmered away, leaving me smiling at nothing but thin air.

How do I find real Christmas spirit? There isn't even snow on the ground. I grabbed my jacket and shuffled down the stairs. Mom was reading the paper, and Andy was stirring some new dish.

I peered around the house and saw that we didn't have many decorations up. We didn't have a tree, or wreaths or even simple red and green bows. The house was empty of Christmas cheer.

"Hi honey," my mother said, looking up from her paper. She eventually folded it and placed her hands on top. "I have to go to the mall today. Get the last of my Christmas shopping done."

It was four days before Christmas, and we still didn't have our Christmas attire up. "Okay," I said, sighing softly, "Can I come with you for the drive?" I wanted to explode for asking the question.

I hate malls.

"Sure, you can. I'll just get ready and we can leave shortly." She promptly picked up her body and hurried off to her room.

What is real spirit of Christmas? I looked over at Andy; he just stirred and read ingredients from his cookbook.

I didn't know the answer, but something about this little girl made me wish I had. I didn't even know where to begin, but I guess the mall is a good place as any.

Everyone goes to the mall for Christmas.

My mother came back carrying her keys and her shoe of choice. We slipped out the door, I silent while she went on about the gifts she needed to get for the boys.

I'd done my shopping. Way back when it was the first of December. I'm not early, I just saw three things that worked for gifts and tossed them on the counter. Andy and my mother were just as easy.

The parking lot was jammed pack, crowded with cars and their angry drivers. The faces on the people didn't look happy, not like the little girl's. Some shouted at others, some honked, but it was pure ciaos.

I hated it even more.

We found a spot far from the door and walked briskly closer. My mother smiled at everyone, she didn't look angry or mad. She held the door for an elderly lady with too many boxes and a younger women carrying bags and a child in her arms.

My mother's step was light and she just moved quickly around people. I saw lines of people, and mobs of vicious animals seeking out their prey. I felt uncomfortable. There were twice as many ghosts. The ones that followed shoppers in the store, by the looks of it.

I glanced at my mother, saying a quick goodbye and got out of there. I'd take the bus home. If I were looking for Christmas spirit, I sure wouldn't find it in there.

I walked along the building, a little timid about going into the parking lot and chancing being squashed by a car. I made it to the end of the mall and ran across the street to a new intersection.

I had choices. I could go straight to the downtown area where I'd find more angry shoppers and loaded stores, the restaurant cluster to the left, or to see the empty handed, homeless people on the right.

I chose right.

I wandered down the streets looking at the people that past me along with the buildings. Very quickly, things changed from shiny and clean to dark, and dreary. Almost everything was rundown and dirty.

I saw boxes on the ground from where people must have slept for the night. Garbage filled the sides of the streets and not one car drove past me.

The streets seemed empty. I kept walking until I saw a group of people stagger out of a building. Most looking homeless in their rags while one just didn't.

She wasn't wearing anything fancy, but she didn't look in need of a home. She looked right at me as the others drifted away, "You the volunteer?" she asked gruffly.

"No," I shook my head. Volunteer for what? "What is this?" I asked gesturing to the building.

"Soup Kitchen, and unfortunately one of my volunteers didn't show up, so we're short a person," her voice was harsh, although, it was interlaced with some sort of compassion. She was happy to be here to help.

"I can help. I'm not your volunteer but since you're short, I can help," I smiled gently and she nodded.

She whipped the door back open and I was met with lots of other people that dressed in rags and unfitted clothing. The smell of mashed potatoes, gravy, and carrots wafted out to see me.

"Follow me," she said, walking toward the line of people and a large booth with one worker behind it. She picked up an apron and a hair net and tossed them at me. "Here, I suggest it."

I slipped the apron around my neck and tied it at my waist, ignoring the stain of purple that looked like cranberries. Twisting my hair, I put the net on and let it slide into the back, resting just on my upper neck.

I took my place behind the section of counter. I was last in line. The people slid their trays down. The first women left some carrots and meat, the women that met me at the door left potatoes and I was gravy and juice.

I'd hand them the little plastic carton and they'd stare at my wrist and hands like I was something different. Maybe I was. I was a lot cleaner, and wearing nicer clothing, but I was still human.

The people kept coming and we kept serving. We restocked a few times but that was about it. Soon the crowds of people died down and withered away and we closed shop. It was almost three. I helped them pack the leftovers away and clean the counters.

I didn't even pause to think why I was doing this. I just did it. It's not like me to go to a dirty place and do a lot of work, but I was sick and tired of the mobs of angry people.

Here, I saw smiles. I saw the faces of the hungry grow less hungry as they ate the meals we served to them. There were no honking cars and screeching tires since everyone was on foot.

It was a change that I liked.

"Why do you do this," I asked, gesturing to the people left inside. The women tied a bag of garbage and carried it out back.

"I've been in their situation. I know the feeling of starvation, and I just want to help."

"You don't get anything out of it, but you do it anyway," I asked glancing sideways from the counter I was wiping down.

"No, I get something out of it. Not material, but a feeling. People come here for dignity, love, respect, a place where they feel welcome. I'm the one who gives it to them. I don't live on the streets anymore, but I remember, and they remember me," she sighed and carried the garbage away.

She threw me a pack of crackers and a thing of juice before she locked the doors. "Thank you, I'm glad you helped," she said sincerely. Her voice wasn't as harsh and I really found the interlaced compassion.

"You're welcome," I said, before turning and walking away. I'd forgotten the whole reason I was there until I saw a little girl, leaning against the dirty wall, her head in her lap and her sobs cut through the empty streets.

"Hey, hey, don't cry," I said softly, walking quickly to her, "What's the matter, dear?"

She lifted her head from her lap and her eyes gazed into my own, "Mommy told me to leave, that she didn't love me anymore. I didn't want to but she threw a bottle at me, screaming to get out." Her voice was cracking but her words just poured out of her mouth like the tears that streamed down her face.

Her arms were thrown around me as she sobbed into my shoulder. I could smell the thick ashes on her and an unclean body smell. Her hair was a matted mess and her fingernails were dirty but I let her cry on my shoulder for a while.

She pulled back, "You smell pretty." Her eyes glistened with warmth.

"How old are you?" I asked, wiping my hand across her cheek taking the tears with it.

"Six," she said.

"Do you have a place to go?" I asked.

She pulled away, looking down. "No," she sighed, timidly.

I hesitated. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't leave her. It would be cruel and inhumane. "Come with me," I said, holding her hand.

We walked along the same street I'd come down in the morning, all the way back to the mall. All the cars she saw fascinated her and I wondered if she'd ever left the slums in all her life.

We sat down on a bench at the bus stop, waiting for it. I don't think she really knew what was going on, but she followed me without a hesitation. It worried me, what if I wasn't the one to find her.

"You hungry," I asked. She nodded again, looking a little ashamed for her hunger. I pulled the crackers and juice out of my pocket that I hadn't eaten. She looked at them in my hands, before finally taking them.

She almost swallowed them whole, before looking back at me for more. I shook my head. "Not yet, my dear."

The bus pulled up after a long wait. It was smaller than the ones in New York, and a lot cleaner. There weren't many buses in Carmel but thankfully, there was one that'd take me home.

"What's your name?" I asked, once we'd seated ourselves on the bus.

"Eliza," she said, and looked away out the window.

She was quiet, and didn't say much unless she was asked a question. Her hands shook and she still looked afraid.

The bus arrive a street away from my home and we got off. Her hand slipped into mine as we walked along the road. Once in a while, a car would past us, and she would wave to the driver.

We stopped at the foot of my driveway and she turned to look at me. "You live here?" she asked.

I nodded. "You're some lucky. I lived in a…" her voice trailed off, so I led her up the stairs. If she wanted to tell me where she lived she could, but I wasn't about to force it out of her.

She skipped up the steps, her eyes twinkling. I opened the door and led her in. The clock on the mantle showed 4:47.

"Andy," I said, walking towards the kitchen, leaving Eliza staring at herself in the mirror. "I'm bringing a guest for dinner, if that's alright with you."

"Of course," he said without turning away from his work. "The more the merrier."

I walked back to Eliza and smiled at her. "Come on," I said softly. She followed me up the stairs to my bedroom.

"Pink is my favourite colour," she said, looking around my room. I led her to the bathroom, where she looked at me questioning. "Can I take a bath?" she asked, hopefully.

"Of course," I said. I ran the water, making sure it wasn't too hot. "I'll just be outside if you need anything," I said, leaving the door open a smidgen.

I went to my closet and pulled down a large plastic bin from when my mother and I moved. I dug around in the clothes until I came upon a yellow dress, white socks, and little black tap shoes.

I heard the gentle splashing of water and Eliza called my name. I saw her standing there, wrapped in a towel, her hair lying on her shoulders. I twisted the knob and the water drained.

"Here, these were mine when I was little," I said, handing her the clothes.

She smiled, once again, as her eyes twinkled with delight. I left her to change. I was sitting on my bed when the door opened and she came dancing out.

"Let's do your hair," I said, and she nodded. I dried and then curled it. I cut a piece of yellow ribbon and wrap it around her head, tying it in a bow.

"You look beautiful," I said and she twirled around, the skirt dancing with her.

"I feel it," she said.

Andy's call for dinner came not shortly afterwards. I heard her gasp as she ravished the smell of ham.

Dinner was quiet and nobody bothered Eliza as she ate like it was her last meal. My mother asked me after dinner, while David turned the TV on for her, where she'd come from.

I told my mom the truth, for once. She just looked at me with a smile that I'd never seen before. She said Eliza could stay with us until a home for her was found, and she did.

It was the day of Christmas Eve. We'd spent our days decorating my house with the boxes of packed away ornaments. We dug out the small artificial tree and hung lights, tinsel and ornaments. We hung wreathes on the doors, and stockings on the fire.

Andy baked in the kitchen with us, making many treats for Christmas. The music of Christmas carols poured through the house gently.

I felt ecstatic that she was here. It was a real Christmas with her. No, there wasn't the much wanted snow on the ground but she was showing me real Christmas spirit.

That's when I remembered Elizabeth. I looked at Eliza as she rolled her hands around in the dough. She smiled warmly back at me.

Eliza and Elizabeth were one in the same. I don't know how, but they were. I'd forgotten about Elizabeth when I began helping Eliza.

I jumped when the front door was closed. My mother's heels clicked as she came to meet us in the kitchen. "Eliza, good news, someone I work with, very kind, is looking to adopt you," my mother said, gently.

Eliza giggled brightly. She wanted a real home, like me, she'd told me one night after I'd read her 'Twas the Night before Christmas.'

I felt a little pang, as I knew that our goodbyes would be coming shortly.

Jesse came over. He greeted Eliza with warmth, and talked to her just like she was his sister. Eliza loved Jesse.

I told my mom we'd take Eliza to her new family, the Connelly's, home. I could feel my eyes begin to tickle as she climbed out of the car. I walked her to the door and waited for Mrs. Connelly to answer.

I heard a little sniffle from Eliza and looked down at her. She smiled up at me, but it was just a smile, a smile without warmth and glistening eyes.

Mrs. Connelly swung the door open, holding a mug, and wearing slippers. "Oh, you're here, I'm so glad," she said peppery. She kneeled down to Eliza, "I'm so pleased that you're here for Christmas. Come on in."

Eliza paused, looking at me hesitantly. I knelt down so that we were eye level. "I'm going to miss you Eliza, but it's not like your gone forever. I'll come see you. I promise."

She beamed, and leaned towards my ear. "You found Christmas spirit, Susannah, in yourself."

I wrapped my arms around her little body and kissed her forehead. "Bye Eliza," I whispered.

"Buh-bye Susannah," she said, before running inside. I stepped off the porch and looked up at the stars.

Softly, one light little flake fell from the sky like an angel. It glided down to the grass, accompanied by many more flakes.

For once, in the last sixty years, it was snowing in Northern California.

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I might do another chapter from a different point of view if I find the time—it will explain more. It's really busy right now, hence why I haven't updated my other story, but I desperately wanted to post something about Christmas.

R & R


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